Archive for November, 2007

An Idyllic Day

Wednesday, November 28th, 2007

Wednesday, November 28, 2007 — Trace State Park near Tupelo, MS

The State Parks in the Southeast, based on our experience, are just tremendous, especially at this time of the year. The campsites have been upgraded and are big rig friendly. The RV parking pads are usually level, paved, and free off branches and other obstructions that give campers headaches, not to mention scratches in the paint job. The sites are in the woods, well separated, and very clean. There’s a camp host that lives on site to assure some basic rules are followed. This time of the year there are very few campers and we often have the place to ourselves. The experience has been similar in Georgia, Alabama, and now Mississippi.

We found another gem with Trace State Park. We selected a site that’s actually on it’s own peninsula that juts out into the lake so we have water on three sides (Duh, Thom, that’s the definition of a peninsula!). It’s very secluded and quiet. Wildlife abound… deer are all over (we actually saw about a dozen just driving in to our site), herons, ducks, and much more. Another bonus: this time of the year the cool weather puts cold-blooded animals into a stupor or dormancy, including all the nasty snakes that live in the south. We hike around without worrying that a big black mamba will attack and carry Dar off when I’m not looking — they always go for the cute ones I’ve heard. Combine all that with some remaining autumn color and bright blue skies like we have today, and it’s just the best!

I’ve always wanted to drive the Natchez Trace and was able to do so yesterday on our drive down from Alabama. Actually, the Trace is the theme of our adventure for the next few days while we travel about half of it’s 444 mile length. The plan is to do a little over 200 miles in three easy daily segments as we work our way south to Jackson or possibly all the way to Natchez. All along the way there are historic sites, battlefields, and other natural wonders like Elvis’ birthplace, to stop and learn.

The modern Natchez Trace is a National Parkway administered by the National Parks Service. It’s a long skinny national park, really, stretching from Natchez Mississippi at the southern end to Nashville at the northern end. It parallels an historic natural trail that was used by animals and early peoples as they sought easy pathways through this naturally rugged terrain. Portions of the original trace exist along the way and you can walk these primeval trails just as early Indians did thousands of years ago. The road itself is a very smooth two-lane asphalt roadway with grass shoulders. There’s a 50mph speed limit and no commercial traffic is allowed, so no trucks to deal with. The road is consistently and gently winding — there are no sharp curves or steep hills. During the week the traffic is so light, the sun so warm, the road so hypnotic, that it’d be easy to fall asleep if it weren’t for your co-pilot. I’d highly recommend it to anyone. You can learn more about it at the National Parks Service website.

T

Move to Mississippi today

Tuesday, November 27th, 2007

I’m up early this morning and find the internet connection, which was weak and intermittent yesterday, is much improved. I’m learning that poor weather can knock the signal down dramatically, especially in fringe areas where the signal is weak to start with. Dar’s still sawing logs and I get a few minutes to sip my coffee and knock out a post. This will be a short one today because we’re getting ready to move and I don’t have much to say anyway.

Our slow trek west resumes today. It’ll be a short drive of only a little over a hundred miles to the Tupelo, MS area. There’s a State Park there that sounds good to us and should make a good home base for a day or so as we check out the area around Elvis’ hometown. This week we’ll be moving more than sitting and I don’t see us spending more than a day or two in any one place. We really don’t have a specific destination this week other than “west” and “south” and “warmer”. It’ll be interesting to see where the wind blows us.

The day before we move there are some chores that should be done. Yesterday, mine were to wash the windshield (about a half-acre), the outside mirrors, and shine up the wheels. I’ve always felt that shiny-clean wheels make the whole vehicle look better by drawing attention away from a little dirt and dust on the rest of the vehicle. We’re lookin’ pretty good today.

Well I hear someone stirring in the back. Better run and get some breakfast going.

T

Easy Days

Sunday, November 25th, 2007

Sunday, November 25, 2007 — Joe Wheeler State Park near Rogersville, AL

Still here, and probably will be until Tuesday. One of the great things about our life right now is that we can adapt and adjust to our environment… so when they call for rain in the next day or so, we can simply stay an extra day and wait for better weather.

The last couple days have been slow and easy for us. We like the park and our site, so it really becomes “home” for a few days. Dar’s been working on a project and I’ve been reading and writing. Doesn’t sound real exciting but we’re enjoying it.

We did visit Wheeler Dam, another TVA dam on the Tennessee River. Completed in 1936, it’s over a mile long and the difference between the upstream pool and the downstream pool is as much as 50 feet. The upstream pool, or lake, created by the dam is 67,000 acres and has over 1,000 miles of shoreline. Our campsite is on this lake.

We had a nice visit with our neighbors around their campfire last night. He’s a long-haul truck driver and we got the lowdown on some of the routes we’ve been planning to take. For example, “stay off I-55 between Jackson and New Orleans because the road’s falling apart and it’s extremely rough.” He suggested a better and less congested route to get down to I-10.

As I wrote earlier, we’ll be here until Tuesday. We’re planning a short drive that day, first getting over to the Natchez Trace and then south to the Tupelo area where there’s a state park we’d like to try. The Natchez Trace is a 444 mile parkway that follows an old historic trail and connects Natchez, Mississippi with Nashville, Tennessee. It’s administered by the National Parks Service. There is no commercial traffic and the highest speed limit is 50 mph… it’s essentially a very long and narrow park. I’d like to drive the portion between Cherokee, Alabama and Jackson, Mississippi — a distance of about 200 miles. Because the road is narrow and we’d like to just meander and enjoy the drive, we’d like to take two or three days to drive the 200 miles.

T

Modern-Day Ghost Town

Saturday, November 24th, 2007

Saturday, November 24, 2007 — Joe Wheeler State Park near Rogersville, AL

Retrospective comments about Crawfordville, GA.

The traditional heart of the ideal small town has been a lively and energetic central business district, an area where people congregate, socialize, shop, and just hang out. Driven by businesses and shop owners, these areas are kept clean and friendly, often decorated for holidays, so as to be an inviting place for people to go, spend a little money for various needs and wants, and make it possible for these businesses and shops to make a profit — which allows the cycle starts again. In the best places there are enough people who can spend enough money to allow this cycle to spiral upward — additional new shops or businesses open, stores are remodeled or new ones built, perhaps the town develops a unique flavor that’s enticing and causes more people to come, maybe even from nearby towns, to take part in the experience. There’s a sense of energy and a sense of excitement that’s palpable, that people feel. They want to be there.

By now you may have seen the pictures in our online photo collection of Crawfordville Georgia. They are pictures of a town that’s only a few years from becoming a modern-day ghost town. The heart of this town stopped beating years ago. The central business district, made up of about 3 city blocks, has but 3 or 4 meager businesses still operating, including a branch bank, a cafe, and a very small clothing and shoe repair shop. If the town didn’t also have the county courthouse (Crawfordville is the county seat of Taliaferro County), I wonder if any of these businesses could exist either.

It wasn’t always this way. The 1920 census counted almost 9,000 people living in this county. Of these, about 5,000 called Crawfordville home. Transportation was more difficult in those days and those that lived in town probably spent their money in town. The businesses and shops were probably busy and making a go of it. The dry goods store had the shelves and display tables full of merchandise. The pharmacy, with it’s requisite soda fountain, was a place to find a cool refreshing soda or ice cream treat on a hot Georgia day. The grocery store provided the needs of a well stocked kitchen.

The business of the county was primarily cotton farming. In addition, Crawfordville straddles the historic Georgia Railroad that connects Atlanta with Augusta and Charleston, and anything coming in or going out by rail came through Crawfordville. There were also dairies and logging in the area that kept people employed.

In the early 1920’s the boll weevil turned up and, at the time, there was no way of controlling it. Cotton yields dropped. Profits dropped. Employment dropped. Shipments dropped. Money was scarce. People started moving to other places where they could find employment and opportunity. Those with any “get up and go” got up and went. By 1930, the population of the county had dropped to about 6000 people. From that time forward nothing has ever replaced the importance of cotton to Taliaferro county’s economy. From that time forward the town struggled, people ebbed away, businesses failed or moved away — it’s been a downward spiral.

Already suffering economically and as if it needed it, the town of Crawfordville somehow became a focal point of the civil rights movement in 1965. A search of the New York Times archives found over 20 articles from that year and the subject of all of them was civil rights activity. Martin Luther King was here, the KKK was here, protests and marches were organized, and politicians wrung their hands knowing what was right but trying to pander to the segregationist element that was the largest voting bloc at the time. As things settled down, even more people left town — mostly whites.

That was over 40 years ago and today the area has less than half the population it had then. The 2000 census counted less than 2,000 people in the county and has estimated the population in 2007 to be just 1,700 people. Of that, only about 500 live in Crawfordville. According to the census there are only about 100 people in the entire county that are employed and receiving a paycheck. It’s kinda hard to keep a town vibrant when there are no resources or energy to fuel the community.

As we walked the main street looking into the windows of closed businesses, evidence of the better days was still present. The shelves and display tables of the dry good store were still in place, but empty, dirty, and forlorn. Fixtures, glasses, and mixers were still on the soda fountain counters as if someone left one night and just never returned. The roof and floor of the grocery store were missing — gone, only the exterior walls of the building adorned with painted signage still exist. A number of buildings were missing their roofs.

The roof is gone.
The sun shines in all day and the moon beams in all night.
Nothing good happens to vacant buildings that are neglected.
The roof starts to leak and no one notices — no one’s there much anymore.
When someone does notice, they don’t care — there’s nothing inside to protect from leaking rain.
When a trickle becomes a torrent, they can’t afford to get it fixed — there’s no income or rent to offset the cost.
Eventually, the water seepage rots the roof timbers, they crumble, fail, fall, and the roof comes down with them.
But the walls still stand strong… the ruins a reminder of a previous, more hopeful and energetic time.
The building is now a total wreck… but there’s still no money to tear it down and haul it away.
Besides, what’s the difference between a broken down building and a junk filled empty lot?
Neither are worth anything.

Ultimately this is a story about lack of resources. And it’s a story that has been re-told many, many times since the dawn of civilization and during the growth and development of the U.S. A small town in the wild west is established along a railroad line and then dies when the railroad was later re-routed. A community in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan is established to service the needs of miners during the copper rush of the late 1800’s and later is totally abandoned when the copper is gone. When key resources are suddenly exhausted, people are no longer able to survive the way they had. If they can, they seek resources and opportunity elsewhere.

Are we, as a civilization, so advanced that we don’t have to be concerned about one of our key resources drying up? Can science and innovation solve any problem nature throws at us? Is there enough fresh water on the planet for billions of new people in the next few years? Can we grow enough food? Is there enough oil for millions and millions more cars in China and India? Could there be a “boll weevil” in our future?

It might be wise to stay adaptable and keep an eye on world events.

T

Reflection and Thanks

Thursday, November 22nd, 2007

Thursday, November 22, 2007 — Joe Wheeler State Park near Rogersville, AL

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!

A cold front passed through last night bringing rain, a little wind, and chillier temps by this morning. It was 42f when we got up this morning.

Yesterday we didn’t do much. It rained almost all day. Since Dar needed a few supplies for a project she’s working on, and we needed a few groceries, we drove to Florence, a good sized town about 20 miles west of us.

During our foray into Florence we stopped at a Ruby Tuesday restaurant to have some lunch. We were seated just a little way from a large table of extended family members… father, mother, their adult children, and their children’s families. I’m only guessing. One of the adult children, a guy, who for the purposes of this post we’ll name “Bob”, had a voice that easily projected all around the dining room we were in and dominated his other family members. In other words, all diners in the restaurant knew what Bob was thinking.

Shortly after we sat down, Bob and the rest of his family members got their food order delivered. Within a minute or two Bob was telling everyone at his table (and everyone in the restaurant) that he’d ordered his steak medium rare, and that he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten, but it most certainly wasn’t medium rare. In a few minutes their server was back checking on the table and Bob boldly brought her up to date with what everyone else in the restaurant already knew… his steak wasn’t done to his liking. She apologized, removed his plate, and said she’d have another out in a jiffy.

After some minutes, the server was back with another steak. This time, she didn’t have a chance to escape back to the kitchen before Bob complained that the plate the steak was served on wasn’t hot enough… he likes his steaks served on a very hot plate. She again apologizes, takes the plate, and says she’ll be right back.

A few more minutes pass. The rest of the family is nearly done eating. The server reappears with yet another steak. Bob once again starts in on his steak. For a few moments I honestly thought that he’d finally found the right degree of steak done-ness and plate hot-ness. But I was wrong. There’s no pleasing Bob. He started telling everyone that his steak was now rare, not medium rare. And after a few more minutes he announces to the room that “now we’ve gone from rare to raw!” Their server returns and gets another ear-full. She takes the plate and scurries off. A little while later she returns, apologizes, and says she’ll deduct the cost of his meal from the check, and if he’d like he can take the uneaten steak home and re-cook it to his satisfaction. He said he’d take the steak, but he wasn’t going to eat it. It was going to become dog food.

Dar and I handle these situations differently. I realize that you can’t remove the ass from a jackass. There is nothing I can do to change people like this. I see these events as, a) studies in human interaction, and b) entertainment. They become fodder for my blog. They remind me that not all people are reasonable — as if I need reminding on this point.

Dar, on the other hand, must do or say something to right the wrong. She gets that look in her eyes… righteousness will prevail. I know this and told her, as we were leaving, that I was going to follow her and physically muzzle her if she said something to Bob as we passed by their table. What I didn’t count on was her unloading on the manager of the restaurant who saw us to the door and thanked us for stopping in. He had more than one story about his customers that day.

But back to Bob. I’m convinced some people get some kind of pleasure or sense off self-worth out of not being happy and make a lifestyle out of complaining. I hope he never finds himself in a truly challenging and dire situation someday. On second thought, maybe I do. No, on third thought, I certainly do.

On this day of reflection and thanksgiving, I’m especially thankful for our two great kids, our wonderful grandson, and for our parents and the great job they did raising us. I’m also thankful that we’re able to do this sabbatical and see America like we’ve never seen it before.

Oh, and I’m especially thankful that I’m not like Bob.

T